


Vagabond Roaming

by thecenturi0n



Category: Grimm (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-10
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecenturi0n/pseuds/thecenturi0n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam were sent to Portland, Oregon to investigate a possible creature attack when three mutilated corpses turned up. The brothers never expected to end up chasing the same monster alongside Detective Nick Burkhardt. Dean/Nick. Slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ and FF.net. I'm moving here officially since FF.net is being lame and deleting some fics. AO3 will be its new home! I already have five chapters done, so I will be posting the chapters once a day on here up until the recent chapter.
> 
> As for the ratings, it will be T+ until the seventh chapter where it will be explicit since I'm bringing in sweet porn ;)  
> This fic brought me out of my seven-year hiatus and opened my world to crossovers. :) Hope you enjoy it!

A pillow ungracefully landed on Dean's face with a smack. "Agh!" Dean flailed as he jerked awake. "Dude, what the hell?" He pulled the pillow from his face as he sat up and glared at his brother who was across the room half-dressed and packing the weapons.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." Sam grinned as Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He turned back to zip up the weapon bag and absentmindedly patted it.

"Bobby called." Dean quirked his eyebrow. "He thinks there's something up in Portland. Since we're about an hour away, he thought we should check it out." Sam pulled on a black tie around his neck and set to tie it. Dean got up from the bed, peeling his shirt as he walked to the bathroom.

"What's going on up in Portland?" Dean called out from the bathroom.

"There's been two bodies found mutilated last week and a third body was just found around twenty-five minutes ago," Sam explained.

"What else is new?" Dean muttered. He ducked his head towards the sink, putting out his hand in the rushing water before running his fingers in his hair. He long sacrificed the luxury of shampoo and conditioner, and besides, his short hair didn't require taxing effort. Sam on the other hand... one did wonder.

Sam continued, "Bobby thought it might have to do with a werewolf, since it looks like an animal attack. But he isn't sure because after the first two attacks, the third body that had the same MO didn't coincide with the lunar phases." He tugged on his black suit jacket and straightened the sleeves. "It must be something else."

"So what? We'll head up there and crash the crime scene?" Dean asked as Sam straightened his tie.

"Yup, get your suit on and we'll get out of here."

Dean quickly pulled on his crispest two-piece suit he had in his bag. He shoved his dirty jeans and shirt into the bag, packed his remaining items and hopped out the motel room, putting his shoes on with a tie loose around his neck. He rounded the outdoor stairs and reached the Impala where he saw Sam throwing the bags in the trunk and shutting it. Dean threw his bag in the backseat and got into the driver's seat while Sam wordlessly slid into the passenger seat. The engine roared to life as he ignited the car.

Dean popped in a cassette, turned up the volume on the dash and the intro to Wherever I May Roam by Metallica crooned from the speakers. Sam rolled his eyes and looked out the window. Dean grinned happily as he turned the steering wheel, driving out of the motel heading north towards Portland, fingers thumping against the steering wheel to the beat.

  
**...**   


  
**Portland, Oregon**   


  


An hour-long drive later and a quick stop for shitty coffee (later), Dean and Sam made it within the city limits of Portland and soon they found the crime scene they needed to be at.

Dean parked the Impala down across the park. He swiftly secured his tie as he and Sam walked over to the scene. A police officer in uniform noticed them and walked up to them. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, hi." Dean said as he and Sam flipped out their badges. "I'm Agent Bonham and this is Agent Page." They tucked their badges after the officer was content and Dean continued, "We're sent to check out your investigation because of the similarities between your recent body and the past two bodies from the week before." The officer nodded and pointed across the crime scene area.

"See him right there? He'd fill you in more than I could. Hey, Burkhardt!"

A dark-haired man, clad in jeans and a dark jacket, kneeling by the mutilated corpse looked up at the sound of his name. A slightly irritated expression graced his face as he saw the two men in crisp suits. Dean surmised that he was the local detective. With really nice eyes. "What, Wu?" The man called out and paused his moving hands.

"These feds," he said with slight distaste, "want to know what's up." The police officer, apparently called Wu, crossed his arms. The man called Burkhardt stood up and peeled off the latex gloves. The second thing Dean noticed was that the man seemed to be a slightly shorter than him.

It might not seem that the brothers paid attention to detail or watched the habits of the people they came across during their time on the road. Especially Dean, since Sam was the one that was a stickler for details and information. But Dean did unconsciously pick up on the little things, as he was trained to do as a hunter. Most of the time, some information turned up useless and it just passed by Dean. But for some reason, there was something about this Burkhardt character that set off Dean's instincts. Dean watched as Burkhardt walked over to where they were standing. There was something different about this guy, but he wasn't able to put a finger on it. Thinking it was nothing, he quickly shook off the feeling.

Burkhardt came up to them and after confirming their FBI badges, he stuck out a pale hand towards Sam to shake, his eyes shifting between the two men as they pocketed their badges with practiced synchronized movements.

"Agents Bonham and Page? I'm Detective Nick Burkhardt. I'm in charge of this case, along with my partner over there." He quickly jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards where a dark skinned man was speaking to another cop on the scene. "How can I help you?" He asked as he took Dean's hand and shook it. His skin was really pale. Dean thought to himself, this guy might be the first half-decent looking detective they had come across in their travels. He even looked their own age, if not a little younger. Not bad seeing that he seemed to be some big-shot city detective.

"The question is how you can help us. We've been put on your case and we need to know what you know," Dean said effortlessly, keeping in character.

"That's odd." He frowned a little. "We're doing perfectly fine on our own. Why would feds need to intrude now?" The detective rubbed his eye tiredly with the tips of his fingers, as if he had been working the night before.

"Y'know, I think otherwise. This is the third incident with the same MO. Just explain, detective. The sooner we know, the sooner we'll be out of your hair." Sam says, sliding into his mean-Fed personality.

Dean asked, "What happened here?"

The detective looked at the tall brother warily for a moment before giving in. "Alright, well, at this point it looks like an odd animal attack. We're not sure what attacked her. It doesn't look like her body was torn up by teeth, but she does look pretty ripped up. Her organs are missing. These are sure signs of some kind of wild animal attack. We ID'd the victim – her name is Sarah McKellen, just turned 20. Home on a college break visiting her family, apparently." He paused and looked in his small notebook then looked back up. "We're going to take her body to the coroner to see exactly what could have torn her up. I'm guessing maybe a wolf." He pocketed his notebook along with a pen and crossed his arms tightly across his robust chest.

Then Dean saw it. The tick of an eyebrow and the slight tightening of the mouth. To a normal person, this change in facial features would pass over their heads. But body language was one of the tricks that Dean and Sam had to learn as hunters. Sam and Dean glanced at each other, their eyes saying they both saw the same thing. Something was definitely off.

"Really?" Sam paused in writing in his own little black notebook as he glanced back at Burkhardt. Dean stopped playing with the rock beneath his shoes and looked at Burkhardt who seemed very calm. The guy didn't seem like he had anything more to add, but clearly he was hiding something. Either way, neither party was interested to further the conversation.

"Yes," Burkhardt glanced at Dean. "Er, Agent… Bonham, right?" At Dean's nod, he continued, "Okay, well... I don't see a reason why feds need to intrude on a normal case. This is a case that I know we can handle."

"No, I don't think so," Dean smiled, eyes eyes crinkling in the corners, coming off as slightly smug when Burkhardt looked startled at his rude response. "I think we have everything. Thanks for your time."

As Dean and Sam walked away, they missed the dark expression that flashed over Burkhardt's face and his glance off to the side as if he was debating something in his mind. He appeared to make up his mind and went back to work on the crime scene, calling for his partner to get going.

Sam nudged Dean as they walked back to the Impala. He tilted his head towards Dean as he asked, "What was that about?"

"Nothing," Dean replied simply, keeping his sight straight ahead.

Sam shrugged. "Alright well, we should go talk to the victim's family then, try to find out more about her."

"Yeah, okay," Dean mumbled and looked behind him, the crime scene now a mere speck across the park.


	2. Chapter 2

"23 Derry Road, there it is." Sam gestured to a dark blue house down the road. The recent victim's family home looked quaint with its rocking chair set on the porch and white picket fence.

To Dean's dismay, there was a large Great Dane lounging on the porch in front of the door, relaxing in the shade.

Dean pulled to the side of the road and parked the Impala. "Let's hope the guy isn't bite-y", he mumbled.

Sam and Dean got out of the car and shut the doors behind them. They walked across the street towards the house. Dean opened the picketed door and closed it behind them. The Dane's head rose when it heard the gate open and stared unblinkingly at the approaching men in suits.

Dean's steps faltered as they reached the porch but Sam just continued up the stairs. The Dane kept its eyes trained on Sam as he walked around the dog to reach the door. Dean then took that as his cue to walk up the steps and around the dog. The dog stared at him in the same fashion.

"Okay, that dog is creepy," said Dean, watching the dog behind him that was still staring at him as Sam rang the doorbell. Sam chuckled but then his face slid into neutral when the door opened. Dean quickly followed suit, settling into his act.

"Who are—" an older gentleman with greying hair stopped short when he saw the flipped badges. He frowned as they pocketed them. "Fellas, I'm tired of talking to the police. I already said everything I possibly could. Can't you let a family mourn in peace?"

"We're extremely sorry for your loss," admonished Dean. "But we are a different division and we pride ourselves in being more thorough. If you could answer some questions, we'll be able to close the case quickly. It won't take long."

The older gentlemen, presumably the victim's father, sighed. "Alright, come in." He turned to the side to let them in and closed the door. "We can talk in here," he said as he led them through an archway into what was likely the living room.

Dean and Sam sat down on the love seats across where the victim's father sat on a leather recliner. Once they were settled, Mr. McKellen spoke. "What do you want to know?"

"Has your daughter been acting strange lately? Like out of the norm?" Dean started off.

Mr. McKellen appeared confused by the unexpected question. "Strange?"

"Yeah, like eating more often, or sneaking out at night?" Dean trailed off.

"I-I don't know. My Sarah was just home from college break, it's been a while since I actually saw her, but she does regularly call us twice a week," Mr. McKellen said. "But no, she doesn't sneak out at night... she isn't that sort. She is—" he choked, "Sorry, was honestly a good girl. She'd tell us if she needed to go out."

"Uh-huh, okay. What about strange... smells?" Sam inquired.

"Smells?"

"Yeah, like sulfur," Sam gestured his hand in the air to nothing.

"…No. Nothing like that." Now Mr. McKellen looked a little disturbed by their questions.

Sam rushed to push the conversation back to as normal as possible. "Could you tell us about your daughter, then?"

"Yeah, speaking of, may I look around your daughter's room?" Dean asked before the victim's father could answer Sam's question.

"Uh, yes. Up the stairs, first door on the right." Mr. McKellen gestured to the stairs.

Dean mumbled a thanks as the man turned back to respond to Sam's question. Dean walked to the stairs and found the room as directed.

He peered into the room to survey it and then walked in. He was glad the room wasn't dreadfully girly. In fact, the victim seemed to have favored green. Dean looked through high school varsity soccer and dance trophies on a shelf and team photos in frames.

Above the bed were multiple photos of the victim and a boy. Some of them were of them kissing. Her boyfriend, Dean guessed. Not a bad looking dude. There were also some pictures of Sarah with her friends.

He walked over to the desk and picked up magazines. A brown book hidden between several textbooks next to the computer caught his eye. He set the magazines down and took the brown book.

It was a leather-bound journal, or more accurately, a diary. He flipped through the pages; she wrote every single day since sometime last year even while in college. His eyebrows rose further and further up towards his hairline with each passing page towards the end.

Wow. Dean let a breath he hadn't known he was holding. While Sarah honestly loved her boyfriend of two years, she also harbored feelings for another person, a close friend – a girl.

Dean felt like he was reading a script of a soap show. It became apparent that she didn't want to leave her boyfriend, Malcolm, because he was a little controlling but she was convinced it was because he loved her too much, so she never acted on her emerging feelings for her friend. However, it was getting increasingly harder each day to stop letting lingering touches stay on her friend's shoulder or letting her fingers thread through her red hair.

That was hot. Dean paused reading. The victim was really poetic when it came to this girl. He flipped the pages again to look for more clues about anything out of ordinary. Besides her bisexual tendencies, of course. He could find none besides the fact that her last entry was more than a few days before her death. Although it might be good to check in with the victim's boyfriend – he probably could fill in a little more detail. And Dean might be able to figure out why he tried to control her.

Dean decided that he was lingering too long, and exited the room. He found Sam just finishing up his interview with Mr. McKellen.

Sam looked up at Dean who was coming down the stairs. He looked back at Mr. McKellen and stood up. Mr. McKellen stood up as well. Sam took his hand and shook it. "Thank you very much for your time. We'll do our best to close the case as soon as we can. For your family and your daughter."

Mr. McKellen looked grateful. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said as he walked them to the door. "Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Good day." He closed the door behind Sam and Dean.

Dean patted the Great Dane's large head as they walked around the dog and walked back to the Impala. "Alright, so I found that the girl, Sarah had a controlling boyfriend that acted abnormally. She mentioned he had a little odd eating behavior but she didn't really go into it. Maybe we can look into him?" Sam nodded his head in agreement. They both got into the car then Dean started up the Impala and turned down the street. "I got his address."

"'Kay," Sam flipped open his black notepad and read through it.

"Um, another thing…" Dean trailed off, staring at the road ahead. He slowed down at a red light. Sam's silence encouraged him to go on. "When I snooped in Sarah's diary, I found something interesting. Sarah was a closet bisexual."

Sam, to his credit, looked only slightly surprised. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, she loved her boyfriend, er, Malcolm But she had this hardcore crush on her friend, Ellen."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sam looked back to the road and tugged his tie loose from his collar.

"Well, I thought maybe this Ellen knows something," Dean said.

"Yeah, okay. You can go talk to her and I'll check out the ex." Sam shrugged indifferently. "That okay?"

Dean grinned boyishly. "And meet a real lesbian? I'm down for it."

Sam's response was to roll his eyes.

**...**

The boyfriend's house wasn't so far from the victim's house. In fact, he lived three streets over in an apartment building that was family-owned. Sam went to the apartment building to speak to the ex-boyfriend at room 405, while Dean drove a couple more streets down to see the victim's friend at her home.

He pulled up to the house and parked. It seemed all the houses on this street were Victorian-style. But Dean never held an interest for architecture. He rang the doorbell and he was greeted to a small red-headed pixie with big green eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at the stranger in the suit. "Um, can I help you?"

Dean flashed his badge. "Agent Bonham. Hi. Ellen, right?"

"Yes...?"

Dean cleared his throat. "I'm investigating Sarah McKellen's death and I came here when it became apparent you two were pretty close. I'd like to know more about her from you if you have time."

"Um, my parents aren't home but if you make it quick..."

Dean nodded. "Of course."

Ellen let Dean into the house and led him into the kitchen where she poured him a glass of lemonade in a show of decent manners.

Dean set the glass down after taking a long sip. "So, tell me all you can."

...

Dean swung back to the apartment to meet Sam and found him standing on the sidewalk. Sam opened the door as Dean pulled up and then got in. "Hey."

"Hey. Find anything?" Dean turned the Impala to the road, fully intent on finding a diner to satisfy his growling stomach.

"Yeah... lots," Sam replied. "Dude, this Malcolm guy is creepy as hell."

"Why?"

"He let me in, okay. All was fine and dandy, but the way he spoke to me, and his body language was so… so…" Sam paused. "He had this strange look on his eyes, it- it's impossible to describe. It was like he knew something, and he just kept smiling. And when he talks, it's steady—"

"So—," Dean began to interrupt.

"His girlfriend of two years just died – shouldn't he be _distraught_?"

Dean quieted and gazed at the road ahead of him. "Good point there." Dean's head whipped to a large sign coming upon the horizon. 'Frank's Diner'. Finally, food. He pulled into the parking lot and parked the car.

Dean and Sam walked in, the door letting out a jingle, and sat at a table near a window. Sam pulled out his laptop from his bag and opened it, intent on doing research. Dean took off his suit jacket, threw it over the back of the chair and rolled his sleeves up and loosened his tie. Finally, he thought as he sat down and sighed.

He casually surveyed the diner before picking up the greasy menu in front of him, studying his choices. Sam was already ready. When a blonde and busty waitress came by, she took their orders, whilst of course dropping sultry flirtatious moves onto Dean. Dean sat back and simply encouraged her with a wink and a smile.

"What should we do about the creepy ex-boyfriend, then?" Sam asked when the waitress left.

"I dunno. What you explained about him is definitely odd. Should we track him at his place?" Dean got up and walked to the old-time jukebox that was near their table. "See if he does something inhuman?" He looked at the song choices and inserted a couple of coins before selecting a soft rock song.

"Yeah. Just to be sure…" Sam trailed off when the waitress came back with their orders.

An all-American burger and a chicken salad. Dean often wondered if Sam was attempting to shift his preferences to vegetarian.

Dean pulled out a leather-bound book from his suit jacket. "Remember I told you that Sarah had a diary?"

"You stole her _diary_?"

"More like borrowed. Anyway," he flipped open the bound journal. "Sarah wrote down everything. She could've been an awesome chronologist if she was a hunter."

"That's a rather large word for you, Dean."

"Shut up."

Sam simply smiled and leaned on the palm as his hand as Dean continued.

"Anyway. She wrote down a few of his, what she called "outbursts". He would get in these mood swings that cause him to be irrational and cruel, but he never laid a hand on her, at least never in an assault."

"Yeah, he was kind of like that when I spoke to him earlier."

"Still wanna check him out?"

"Definitely. Though let's visit Sarah at the morgue first."

"You got it." Dean was just lifting his super melted cheeseburger with double bacon when the diner bell rang as the door swung open. He paused mid-bite in surprise when a familiar face walked in, followed by another.

It was Detective Burkhardt and his partner.

When he rounded the corner, he caught Dean's eyes and looked equally surprised. Dean dropped his burger and nudged Sam.

Sam looked up in shock as they walked over, hastily shut his laptop and slid into character. "Detectives, what a surprise."

Detective Burkhardt nodded and looked at his partner. "These two fellas are Feds, Agents Bonham and Page. They were at the crime scene earlier today making inquiries. This is my partner Hank."

Dean smirked and raised his beer bottle. "Hey."

"Seems like I caught you both on a break, huh?"

"Yep," Dean lifted his burger again. "Worked 36 hours straight, need a break sometime, right?" He took a couple of bites. "Sit down, if you like. We're in the same business after all," Dean gestured with his half-eaten burger to the two empty seats across them.

"Wouldn't want to impose," Burkhardt said.

"No, no. By all means," Sam smiled tightly.

Hank's phone rang and he took it. He spoke into it for a few seconds and hung up. He nudged his partner and whispered in his ear. Burkhardt nodded, "Yeah sure, I'll see you there." Hank turned and left the diner.

Dean curiously watched Hank leave, guessing he had to do something for the case. Or not. Nick sat down and ordered a bottle of beer and a sandwich when the waitress came around.

"Aren't you on duty?"

Burkhardt grinned boyishly in response. "What my superiors don't know won't hurt them, huh?" He smiled coyly towards Dean.

The waitress returned as quickly as she left with a bottle of beer. The detective gratefully took the bottle as the waitress set down a small club sandwich in front of him.

"I like your attitude, detective," Dean raised his beer.

Burkhardt raised his in recognition and they clinked their beer bottles. "What's your first name, Agent Bonham?"

"John."

"John, okay. We're just a couple of guys having lunch," Nick said before finally taking his bottle away from Dean's. "Just call me Nick."

Dean's eyes flickered up from his plate and his eyes met the detective's. "Nick," he said slowly, as if trying out his name, a little uncomfortable to step into this new territory. Never was really the one to be on a first name basis with somebody on cop pay roll. And it was really not a great idea.

Sam cut in, breaking the silence that arose between them. "What brings you here?"

"Food break, my partner and I were on our way to the coroner," Nick said, sipping his beer. "Gonna see what they've found, the usual. He had an errand to run, so he'll be missed."

"Sounds fun."

Nick hummed in response.

Dean leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "Suppose you won't let us know about what you find at the coroners later, huh?"

"Hmm, no I don't think so," Nick smiled playfully. "Suppose it'd be fun to let you Feds do some dirty work."

"Rude," Dean pouted jokingly.

"Well, you know…" Nick laughed.

They chatted away for many minutes, seemingly hitting it off while Dean barely had to stay in character. Soon though, Sam grew incredibly awkward and felt like a moose at the table. He nudged Dean and leaned towards his ear to whisper, "Dude, we can't stay long. We'd risk getting caught in the act."

"Relax."

"No I can't, man. We're just lucky he doesn't recognize us as fugitives," Sam whispered frantically.

Dean looked at the detective who was looking at him as they talked, although he seemed to be doing his best to show he wasn't trying to listen. The guy was good.

And Sam was right. This was getting dangerous. It was time to go.

Dean leaned back in the chair and stretched his arms behind his head. "Weeell, we gotta get goin'." He sighed as he released his arms.

Sam discreetly pulled out some cash, which may or may not have been legally obtained, and covered the bill for both himself and Dean.

Nick put down his sandwich and wiped his hands on his jeans. He put out his hand to Dean while discreetly studying him as a cop would a suspect. Dean kept his gaze calm as he grasped the detective's hand as the other spoke.

"It was nice meeting you both again. Glad you're not your typical straight-laced Feds," he smiled genuinely.

Dean snorted. "You have no idea."

Nick raised an eyebrow but Sam butted in, "Good to see you, detective," he said. He got up, along with Dean.

"See ya around, Nicky." Dean winked and smiled before they left the table and walked out of the diner; the door letting out a jingle.


	3. Chapter 3

After finding out that Sarah's body was being examined at the local Medical Examiner's Office, the two brothers quickly drove over there before the real detectives had their chance with the body. With a flip of their badges and a pair of charming smiles, the two were entering the coroner's room, about to greet the coroner.

"She was pretty, huh?" The coroner asked noticing the two men in suits entering the room while brushing a stray lock of blonde hair out of the corpse's face. "She still is," she smiled.

Sam felt a little creeped out. "Uh, yeah. Hi. Can you gives us your prelims?"

"You're lucky that you caught me just as I finished. I was going to have my assistant sew her up and grab me a coffee. God knows I need one." The coroner took off her latex gloves and tossed them in the trash before moving her glasses off and rubbing her eyes tiredly. She put them back on and looked at the men. "So, the prelims." She handed Dean a folder from off the desk. "All is in there." She waved dismissively.

Dean flipped open the folder and read through it as Sam examined Sarah, whose whole torso was torn open, revealing an empty pit where organs should be. "Tell me about the missing organs."

"An animal attack happened."

Sam stared at her bluntness.

"That's why it is called prelims, y'know." The coroner shrugged, smirking.

"Okay, well…" Sam flushed from embarrassment, realizing his mistake and corrected himself, "What did you find during the _autopsy_?"

She beckoned Sam over to the left side of Sarah's torso, where her heart would've been under her ribcage. "What do you see?"

"Uh." Sam stared blankly.

Dean appeared by their side and peered over Sarah's body. "Something is off on the skin where it was cut, I think."

"Correct. These tears are also similar to the other two bodies, however the earlier two were cruder, if possible."

"You're talking as if she was torn up by an object," Sam said, bewildered.

"Correct again – two for two. My, my. You feds are quite different from the other ones." Sam and Dean looked at each other at this. "Now, keep going – keep doing that deducing. I like outside opinions."

Sam looked back at the body again and gave another inspection. "Maybe an object, like a saw?"

"Pretty damn close to it," Dean clued in. "It's crude but it's nearly clear cut."

The coroner nodded. "Yes, it's as if someone intended to remove the organs, but probably was inexperienced."

"Inexperienced? Like these bodies were... practice?" Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Mhmm. I believe this poor girl's heart was removed while it was still beating."

"Y'think?" Dean asked, actually not all too surprised.

"But y'know, that's my opinion. People wants facts and evidence, and there is not enough evidence on her body to support hte homicide theory, until the lab says otherwise."'

"Alright, thanks." Sam shook hands with the coroner.

"Appreciate it." Dean pulled his best smile, to which the coroner rolled her eyes.

"Don't mention it," she said just before the two men left the morgue.

_So if not a werewolf, what then?_

_It couldn't be human... could it?_

**…**

It was well past two in the morning. Or was it four? Whatever. Either way, it was too horrifically early in the morning. Dean groaned and attempted to stretch his legs in the tiny boot space in the driver's seat of the Impala – no such luck.

"Fuck." He groaned and cricked his neck and looked over Sam who was watching the apartment building intently with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Dude, anything?"

"Nope."

"Ah, man, He probably won't come out. It's Tuesd- shit, Wednesday morning. Who in their right mind would come out this late? How about we just call it a night?"

"I don't – no, no, wait." He paused before speaking again quietly. "His lights turned on."

Dean leaned over into Sam's space and looked up at the fourth floor window the room of which was the only one lit. There were some shadows dancing around behind the drawn curtains and then the room flickered dark again.

Moments later Malcolm was walking out of the apartment entrance. He stopped on the sidewalk underneath a lit streetlight and shoved his fists in his jacket, shuffling his feet as if he was waiting. Kid was gangly and tall. Almost reminded Dean of someone.

"Think he's waiting for a pick-up?"

"Probably."

A black sketchy-looking van that screams 'hey kids we have candy' pulled up to where Malcolm was standing and he got in, sliding the door shut. The van drove off and turned a corner.

"Follow?"

"Follow."

Dean turned the ignition and headed in the direction the van had driven off. He turned off his headlights and kept his distance from the van so that they would not notice there was another car behind them.

The van kept driving north, leading them towards the outskirts of Portland into the vast open land and forests and winding roads.

Dean had no problem keeping behind the van, but then came along a particularly curvy road.

And the van had vanished.

"What the hell?" Dean pulled over to the side.

Sam got out of the Impala and looked around, Dean followed. "Maybe there's a pathway into the forest?"

Dean walked off towards the forest, away from the road. "Maybe." He pushed aside some bushes here and there. "I don't see any tracks around here. They should've disappeared from here. Maybe they hid the trail."

"Why go to the trouble at this time of the night?"

"Unless they don't want anyone to follow them and hiding their tracks is the best way to do it." Dean pointed out.

"Gotta be," Sam sighed. "Want to head back?"

"Hell yeah."

  
**…**   


_Fucking libraries._

Dean never liked libraries. They were stuffy places full of nerdy people and old lady librarian hags that did nothing but nag. And the silence. No one should get him started on _that_. Sure, given a few textbooks and a laptop, he would do some research. Just anywhere but a library. A motel was much preferred. After complaining about the place being boring and nerdy for a good whole hour, Sam pretty much kicked Dean out of the library (with some insistence from the librarian) to do anything but be in the there.

Dean kicked a rock as he sluggishly walked along the sidewalk, walking away from the public library. After knocking out for a good five hours, Sam insisted on investigating the victim's family background and learn more about the city of Portland itself. Hence the trip to where they were now. And the place Dean was trying to get away from.

That was six hours ago. It was evening now. Sam still hadn't called Dean whether or not he was done. Either Sam passed out reading too many boring books or was reading past the amount actually needed. Either way, Sam would call when he was ready. Dean's throat itched in thirst and he looked around for a bar. Any bar would do.

He turned right around, recalling passing a bar a few minutes ago.

And collided right into one Detective Nick Burkhardt.

"John."

"Nick! Why is it that we keep bumping into each other like this? You have a crush on me and decided to take up stalking?" He grinned.

"Har har, very funny." Nick shook his head, his cheeks and tip of the ears tinged red; but it just might be the cold. "But no, I was just heading home." He was wrapped up in his jacket, and pulled it closer to escape the chilly November breeze.

Dean sniffed and looked around them. "Hey, you free?"

Nick looked surprised. "Uh."

"If you're not doing anything, really."

"Well, I suppose I'm not…

"Great! You and I are going to get buzzed tonight as two cops off-duty," Dean swung his arm around Nick's shoulders. "I think there's a bar down there."

"Yeah, there is. Not sure if you would wan—"

"Lead the way, detective!" He pushed Nick and patted his back heavily.

And so, that was how Nick found himself on a bar stool nursing his third shot of whiskey and sitting next to a federal agent who he barely knew and who was on his second shot of whiskey. They exchanged tips about handling cases and what beer was good to have on certain kind of days; whether it be a shitty day full of dead bodies or a lazy Sunday. They moved on to more personal topics and eventually to the topic of cars. Even though Nick had a crappy but dependable SUV, Nick secretly harbored and interest in old vintage cars. It wasn't as if he could afford one on detective salary anyhow.

"I see that you drive a gorgeous Impala."

"Yep, '67 Chevy. It's my baby."

"They really let feds drive their own cars?"

"I'm quite a special case."

"I'm curious as to how special."

As they chatted, Dean soon became aware of the bar's environment and saw that women were leaving and more men were taking up the place. Normally this wasn't a huge deal, but then deep rock music started playing and several pairs of guys took to the dance floor and some were promptly making out. Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"The hell?"

Nick glanced over. "Must be gay night."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"No, not really. I did try to warn you earlier, actually. But we're just a couple of guys having a drink, right? Shouldn't really matter."

"Yeah, I guess so," Dean looked away from the crowd, trying to ignore them and focus on the liquor. After a moment of silence, Dean heard a heavy sigh from Nick's direction. He looked over and saw Nick holding what looked like an engagement ring.

"Woah, getting married?"

Nick let out a bitter laugh and took a swig of his whiskey. "No, the opposite actually."

"Got rejected?"

"Something like that."

"Do share."

"I guess I am drunk enough to spill you all the gritty details of my woe," Nick said, resigned. "But really, it's just…"

When Nick looked over to his side, he saw that John was watching him, casually taking a swig of his whiskey, as if waiting for him to continue. What the hell, why not?

"I had a girlfriend for a really long time and I loved her. And to be honest, I still do. But… maybe I was in love with the idea of her."

"What happened?"

"My… job got in the way."

"Oh?"

"It was getting too dangerous for her. For her to be around me. I wanted to keep her safe from everything. I just wanted someone I could come home to and lay in bed with and cook dinner together." Nick finished his current shot of whiskey and asked the bartender for another before continuing, "I had to keep secrets from her… and her being so stubborn, she needed to know." He hiccuped quietly. "And I-I can't. I can't tell her. It would scare her and she would never see me the same way again. Or the world really. In the e- in the end, she didn't accept my proposal, not as long as I kept everything from her."

"Women." Dean shook his head, patting Nick's shoulder sympathetically. "They get too clingy and need too much information. Us guys need space, y'know? Just like yours, my job is also dangerous and I'm on the road all the time. Detectives and g-men, right?" Dean laughed quietly before continuing, "It is way too risky to involve people. I'm in too deep. It's why I usually don't do longer than one night stands."

"You never had a serious relationship?"

"Well." Dean thought of Lisa and Ben. "I did have a serious relationship once. It was on and off and then we stuck together for a year."

"But?"

"My job." Dean shook his head. "It took me away from them after I spent a year playing house. In the end, if I kept going back to them, I would have just hurt them and cause even more problems."

"So you and me both," Nick mumbled. "The world isn't so lonely anymore."

When they both trailed into silence, the music changed and Nick's head perked up, suddenly in a good mood. Deep booms filled the bar as the multicolored lights flickered along with the beats.

"Oh great! This is a really good song." He smiled happily and dragged Dean towards the crowd on the dance floor.

"What— wait. Hey!"

As they stood in the middle of the crowd, Nick said in his ear, "C'mon." He leaned in closer, shoving a thigh in between Dean's legs which elicited a surprised gasp from him. "Let loose." Nick's drunken breaths were puffing over Dean's face and neck and his hands were gripping Dean's hips, thumbs under his shirt.

Holy _shit_.

They were grinding. Dean could feel Nick's package against his thigh, not fully hard, but not fully flaccid either.

Nick was a fucking _guy_.

Dean's hands found Nick's upper arms. Muscles. Not soft twig arms that Dean was used to having wrapped around his neck. Coiled, heated tendons and muscles moving underneath his fingers. A _fucking_ _guy_ , Dean repeated in the depths of his mind. His fingers splayed in discomfort as Nick dragged him closer until their abdomens touched and continued to grind him and rock them together to the heavy rock beat.

Soon, Dean found his hips rolling together with Nick's in sync. Dean's head fell back as they continued to grind together, Nick's thigh pushing up Dean's package with force. A warm feeling rushed through the pit of Dean's stomach. Shit, shit, shit, shit! What the fuck, shit? This feels – _oh_. He lost himself in the echoes of the beat that drowned them on the dance floor, blinded by the light strobes.

No. This was _wrong_. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He shoved Nick away, who drunkenly stumbled backwards slightly, but was able to keep upright. "Look man, you're smashed. Let's get you home, okay?"

"But Johnny," Nick leaned into Dean's personal space again. "Dancing is fun. Really really really fun." He took Dean's hands again and he swung them up. "Let's dance! It's one of the best things to do in life." He grinned toothily. He moved his hips in a way straight men ( _Wait, was he even straight? He used to have a girlfriend, right?_ ) couldn't - well, _really_ shouldn't be able to do.

And Dean was most definitely straight.

Nick's grey shirt was slightly damp from the gathering sweat on the chest area and the hem rose every time his arms went above his head, revealing a strip of skin.

Totally.

His hips moved with the beat, his jeans were slung low and looked tight from perspiration and movement. He threw his head down and swayed his arms while moving faster as the beat of the drums quickened.

Undeniably.

He opened his eyes, which were glazed over from the liquor, and smiled.

_Straight._

Dean's cellphone buzzed in his back pocket. A distraction, thank go— oh shit. Dean completely forgot about Sam in the library and their research mission today. "Shit. Nicky, man we gotta go. We need to get you home." He grabbed Nick's hand and coaxingly tugged him towards the table to get their jackets and left the bar.

Nick stumbled over his steps as he was gently tugged down the sidewalk. "Johnnyyy, wait." He hiccupped. Dean stopped and turned to him, letting go of his hand.

"Man, you're really smashed. Here," He shook his head and pulled Nick's jacket over his shoulders. "You're gonna get a cold." He patted Nick's shoulder absentmindedly.

"You're too nice," Nick smiled happily again before his face dropped. "Too nice." His eyes dropped to the gum-covered sidewalk. He sniffed.

Dean became startled when he saw that Nick was suddenly crying – was he a bipolar drunk or something?

Nick hiccuped again drunkenly and practically threw himself into Dean who had no choice but to catch him. He awkwardly wrapped an arm around Nick's broad shoulders in a half-hug. Nick nuzzled into Dean's neck. Oh. So maybe he's an affectionate drunk.

Awkward.

Dean's cellphone buzzed again and this time he took it. "Hey."

" _Dean!_ " Sam's voice. " _Where the_ hell _are you?_ " He sounded angry. " _I tried calling you hours ago but my call keeps falling through. Are you okay? Don't tell me you went to a bar. Dean, we're on a—_ "

"Dean...?" Dean nearly jumped out of his skin.

Crap.

Dean rushed through explaining. "Don't worry, man. Probably bad reception area. I'm fine. I'm not really buzzed enough anyway. I'm near the motel so I'll meet you there?"

" _Fine_ ," Sam grumbled on the other line. Dean had a feeling he wasn't gonna let this go.

"See ya," and he hung up.

Dean looked down to give Nick an explanation about Sam's big-mouth, but stopped when he saw that Nick was passed out, snoring softly, with his face still in the crook of his neck. Right. Drunken bastard.

Chances were that he wouldn't remember this come morning.

Speaking of which, how was he going to get this guy home? Dean felt around Nick's pockets and found a cellphone in the jacket. He flipped it open and looked through the contacts. Perfect, found a familiar name. He rang Hank's number and the line was picked up after the second ring.

_"_ _Nngh, hello?_ _"_

"Hey! Hank, it's Agent John Bonham."

A pause. " _Why the hell are you on Nick's phone_?"

"About that, he sorta… tanked. Think you could come around and pick him up?"

" _Seriously? Now of all times?_ " Dean heard a sigh. " _Yeah, yeah I can do that. Where you at?_ "

"The Drunken Stork bar on… uh, Highland Street."

" _Uh, alright. Think you can wait for 20 minutes?_ "

"Can do."

" _Thanks. See you soon,_ " and Hank hung up.

Dean pocketed Nick's phone back into the jacket and pulled Nick over to the bench. He maneuvered him into the seat until he could support himself, passed out drunk and all. His head lolled back as he continued to sleep. Dean sat down next to him and watched the empty street.

He wondered how he got here in the first place.

And then remembered that _he_ was the one that invited him. Oh. Right, well. Tonight was… Dean paused mid-thought. Crap, he really wanted to get drunk and forget everything that had happened in there. He didn't understand it and would really rather not deal with it. He was in the middle of a job. Shit.

Dean sighed and rubbed his face, troubled, and then felt a weight on his shoulder. Nick's head had fallen down onto it. Dean crossed his arms and closed his eyes. A little shuteye wouldn't hurt, right? There was no one around this part of town... and it was just 20 minutes...

A tentative hand jolted Dean awake and he saw Hank looking down at him. "Woah, you guys get smashed?"

"He did, not me. Lucky bastard," Dean looked over Nick who was still sleeping on his shoulder. "C'mon man," He stood up, maneuvering the drunken detective to his feet. "Will you be able to get him?"

"Yep, it's not a problem," Hank took Nick's arm and slung it around his own neck. "It's a little weird seeing you like this. Often that is."

"No kidding. Small town, huh?"

"Yeah. Hey, thanks a lot," he turned towards a parked vehicle on the road, dragging Nick into the car.

Dean watched the car turn down the street and sighed for the umpteenth time. Man, he needed to get laid. He walked down the sidewalk heading back to the motel, not looking forwards to Sam's insistent nagging. Joy.


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean finally turned up at the motel, Sam chewed him out for disappearing for so long without calling. Dean shot insults right back at him, since Sam _actually_ fell asleep while reading in the library, therefore he couldn't say anything against him. Dean wouldn't let Sam live it down: "Fine, you win this time." "Of course I do." "Next time call me, okay?" "Aww, was my baby brother worried?" "Shut up."

They both turned in for sleep and awoke in the early afternoon to do more research on every local disappearance, while seeking the similarity and differences between the victims, and looking into every single possibility.

It was late in the evening the same day when the two brothers drove down to the apartment complex where Malcolm lived. They were going to track him down again, figure out where he disappeared off to - creature or not. One did have to admit his late-night trips were weird. He was up to something; either he was getting high off pot with a group of friends in the middle of the forest at 4 AM or he was a fugly, which Dean affectionately called "unnatural" creatures. If he was not a fugly, then the guy had to be at the very least involved. Dean would be _so_ pissed off if it were the former. He didn't stay up this late for a kid getting high with his pothead friends. It wasn't long before Malcolm came out of the apartment building and was picked up by a familiar van.

Dean followed the black van a little closer than last time but still far away enough to ensure that they wouldn't be noticed. This time, they followed the van into the forest on a hidden trail. It was covered by bushes which explained how they did not see it the night before. The trail was many feet into the forest, leading away from the main road. Dean slowed the Impala while the van kept going. Dean parked his baby in a bush and with Sam's help, covered the car with broken branches.  
  
"A hidden trail, huh?"

"Looks like there's a clearing up ahead," Sam walked a little faster, still hearing the trees rustling and the van's engines. "C'mon, let's catch up."

They both stealthily ran between the trees, and soon arrived at a large clearing. They saw the van coming up to a small and battered wooden shack. Two men, one of which was Malcolm, got out of the van and went inside the shelter.

Once they were in, the brothers waited a few minutes before moving towards the dilapidated shack. Sam held up his gun as he crept closer to the door. Dean was following close behind. He knelt below the window only to stand up slightly to look into it discreetly. Locking at Sam, he gestured his head to the door.

Sam nodded and quietly opened the door. Their guns were cocked and held close to their chests. They crept inside; senses heightened and saw it was only one room with a desk set, a cot and a lamp. It looked extremely musty as if it hadn't been used in years. It was also empty.

They relaxed just a little while looking around. They moved the chair back, looked in drawers of the desk, and moved papers around. Sam looked back around the desk area as Dean patted the walls. "Hey."

Dean whipped his head in Sam's direction. "Find something?"

"Yeah, I think so." Sam was knelt down on the floor, picking at the wood. Several of the wood panel shifted as Sam prodded them and finally pushed them out of the way only to reveal a trapdoor. He opened it and let the flap down. He stood up and looked down the trapdoor next to Dean. "Well, then."

"Not really original…"

Sam gave him a weird look then gestured downwards and said, "After you."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the oldest, of course."

"Har har." Dean shifted, disgruntled as he moved into the trapdoor, going down the ladder, which creaked at his every step. When he reached the bottom and found himself in a dimly lit area, he took a quick look around. Once he checked that it appeared clear and there was no immediate danger, he called up for Sam who quietly clambered down the ladder.

Once Sam was next to Dean, they looked around and found themselves in a long hallway that looked like it belonged in a hospital. The floors and the walls looked sterile. After quickly looking into the other smaller, connected rooms, the two brothers quietly approached a set of double-hinged doors at the end of the hallway. They peered through the windows of the doors, one of them on either side. There were no sounds except for metallic creaking and no moving shadows.

Pushing open the doors they slowly walked in, the doors swinging back and forth in their wake until they quietly shut. What they saw made the brothers stop and lower their guns in shock.

The first thing that hit them was the strong stench of something familiar… something akin to iron. _Blood_.

There were tables everywhere and hooks hanging from the ceiling. Metallic shelves scattered around, stocked with jars filled with red liquid. Most rattling of all was the fact there were organs hanging on multiple hooks and even more laid across tables as if they were meat waiting to be cut and cooked for a meal.

Sam walked by a particularly bloody table with organs that had been neatly piled into groups depending on their classification. Hearts, livers, stomach, intestines, you name it. He looked at Dean, his face horrified. Dean looked back as he moved away from the entrails that were hanging from hooks.

"What the hell?" Dean wondered out loud.

A dull thud and a grumble distracted the brothers, prompting them to hurriedly, but silently creep to the direction of the sound. They approached an entryway covered by white curtains, like a hospital setup.

Dean peeked through the crack of the curtain to see a large room that was occupied by Malcolm and the other man that stepped out of the van earlier. There were several metal slab tables and trolleys cluttered with surgical tools.

The men were standing around another man lying on a metal slab. It became apparent that the man was unmoving. In fact, waxen skin gave away the fact that man may have been dead for a while, but appeared to be in good shape (for a corpse anyway).

Another clutter sounded as Malcolm dropped a pair of large scissors similar to gardening scissors. The older man yelled unintelligibly and smacked Malcolm harshly. "Fool! Now you must disinfect the clamps again. This time do it right."

"Sorry, father…"

"Don't _sorry_ me, son. It's bad enough you fucked up with your _girlfriend_ ," he hissed out the last word. "I had to clean up your _fucking_ mess. Now get the clamps and scissors; show me how to correctly cut out the intestines. This is your fourth practice body, you should be used to this now."

Malcolm's hands were shaking badly as he moved towards the body's abdominal area, carefully avoiding the veins and the other redundant organs. Suddenly, his hand slipped on the slippery surface and the instrument clattered on the floor and blood pooled out of the body's cavity.

The older man smacked Malcolm. "Moron!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I can't—"

"Let's go." He shoved Malcolm from the table towards another door in the room, away from where the brothers were watching. The door swung shut as their voices faded away down the hallway.

After waiting for a few moments and once they felt that it was clear, they pushed the curtains away as they walked into the room.

" _Humans_?" Sam hissed to Dean who was looking around the corpse and surgical tools on the trolley that was next to the metal slab table.

"Looks like it… I don't think I ever saw anything like this before," Dean said quietly.

"No, wait. Maybe they're not people… anymore?"

"Yeah, or maybe it's kind of like that klepto chick, uh…" He snapped his fingers as he tried to remember. "Don't you remember? We thought she was a ghost but it turned out she was really just a homicidal human."

"Yeah, yeah."

A gunshot rang out in the direction where Malcolm and his father had disappeared. They jumped into action, bursting through the doors and quickly ran down the hallway towards where the sound came from.

The hallway was dimly lit and there were several plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling and hanging between entryways as if this section was under construction. Multiple shadows danced around, casted from hanging lights in the labyrinth.

Feet were pattering nearby as the brothers ran. Sam's long legs allowed him to run faster than Dean and soon he disappeared into a room where some kind of movement must have caught his attention. Dean became startled when he lost sight of his brother.

"Sa—!" Dean started to shout before something pricked the nape of his neck and his vision turned black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now we're all up to date! :) I'm currently writing the sixth chapter, have no fear!  
> Don't forget to leave comments or kudos because they motivate me to write faster.  
> Faster updates = closer you are to porn. ;) Just a little bribery, ehehe. xoxo

Dean jolted awake. His vision blurred before focusing. _Great._ He had been caught off guard, smooth move. He quickly recapped what had happened before he had been knocked unconscious. Organs everywhere. Shadows dancing. Sam disappearing. Crap, Sam. Where was he?

He shifted to move but found he couldn't, eyebrows furrowing as he realized his shirts and boots were removed and his limbs were bound by leather straps on some kind of slab.

"Ugh," Dean gritted his teeth as memories of hell flooded his mind and his head became hot while he fought to keep himself on track. His back arched off the table as he struggled against the leather restraints.

He wasn't in hell anymore.

Breathe.

This was real.

Breathe.

This was reality.

Dean breathed through his nose and struggled to calm down. Craning his neck, he surveyed the room to his best extent. His clothes and weapons were piled up on a trolley across the room. Dean sighed a breath of relief when he saw Sam nearby, unconscious and anchored to another slab.

The door clacked open and Dean's head swiveled around to that direction. Malcolm and his father walked in. Dean started to struggle again as they neared him.

"Ah, no no." The older man shushed Dean and placed his hand on Dean's shoulder to still him. "Can't have you wriggling so much when we cut you open!" He smiled as if he was petting a puppy.

"Fuck you."

"Ah, such eloquence." Malcolm's father tutted and followed Dean's eyes that were glancing at the unconscious man at the nearby slab. "Oh yes. Your darling partner was given just a bit of morphine. I wanted him awake when I cut him open. Of course, after I am done with you, you know? Can't have him thrashing around and distracting me when I am working on you."

Malcolm was standing behind his father with his arms around himself, looking very uncomfortable. He was startled when his father jabbed him with his elbow.

"Boy, get the scalpel. "

Malcolm nodded nervously, as he reached for the scalpel on the prepared trolley full of surgical instruments. "Here, father."

The older man frowned as he grabbed the tool out of Malcolm's hand. "Boy, straighten your back and watch carefully."

Malcolm silently nodded in response and looked at Dean from under heavy eyelids, appearing despondent. _I'm sorry_ , his eyes seemed to say.

Dean's attention was driven back to the madman holding the scalpel. "Now stay still. Oh wait, you _are_."

Just as the scalpel pricked Dean's skin and caused it to bleed, a gunshot rang out. Dean sighed a breath of relief as the scalpel was discarded in shock and the homicidal surgeon and his son made a run for it.

Now that they were gone, Dean struggled against the restraints again with all the strength he could muster. The leather restraint broke, brittle with years of use and in bad repair. Dean gasped and hastily used his free hand to get the other restraint as quickly as he could; quickly before they come back. But that gunshot, what—

Another pair of hands caught Dean by surprise but he found that they were _helping_ him and were actually removing the restraints. Dean craned his neck and saw the last person he expected to see there.

Nick finally released the leather restraint on Dean's wrist. He smiled warily in greeting, "Hey." Sweat was forming around his temples and he was breathing hard as if he had been running.

Dean sat up as soon as he was released and quickly worked the restraints around his bare ankles open. "Didn't really expect to see you here, man."

Nick look around the room and at the door cautiously before looking back at Dean who finally freed his ankles and was rubbing the redness. "I could say the same thing about you."

Dean noticed the gun sitting in Nick's hip holster. "Suppose since you're prepared, you're aware of what's going on here?"

"Better than you could know."

"Oh?" Dean made an indignant noise as he grabbed his shirts and shoes. He missed Nick's lingering glance as he pulled his t-shirt on and slipped on his jacket, then his boots after shoving his socks on. Dean lifted his small torchlight and pocketed it. He picked up his double barrel gun and cocked it. Nick's eyes glanced down at it and looked back at Dean.

Dean watched as recognition flashed across Nick's face for a brief moment. The other man couldn't know any specifics, but Dean knew well enough what he looked like these days. All the events leading up to now felt like an indescribable amount of weight on his shoulders. Whatever it was Nick had seen, the detective must have understood now there was a lot more to Dean than Nick was aware of.

Before Nick could say another word, a sound just beyond the door grabbed the men's attention. Nick's head swerved to the door and glanced back at Dean who was hurrying to unbuckle his brother from his table. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, just watch yourself."

Nick threw the door open and ran down the hallway, disappearing from Dean's sight. Dean shook Sam's shoulders. "Sam. Sammy, wake up." He pulled Sam into a sitting position, and in a last ditch attempt to wake him up, slapped his cheeks repeatedly.

Sam's eyes blinked open and he groaned, "Dean?"

Dean patted Sam's hair in relief and released him. "I'm right here, buddy. You okay?"

Sam rubbed his face and looked at Dean. "Yeah." He groaned again. "What happened?"

"Dr. Feelbad was trying to cut us up," Dean said as he helped Sam get down from the table. "I guess he likes cutting people up while they're awake. I still don't get why though…"

Sam looked around the room and saw trolleys were knocked over. "What happened here?"

"Remember that big-shot detective? Nick?" Sam nodded. "He's here."

"What? What is he doing here?"

"Guess he's doing his job. He likes to think he knows what he's doing."

"We need to find him."

"Yup, we will." Dean tossed Sam his weapon and the two made their way to the hallway.

Suddenly, Malcolm appeared from a room on the side. His eyes connected with the brothers and widened before he ran away down the hallway, away from them.

Dean and Sam chased him into and out of the rooms down back the same hallway and into several other rooms. It was a maze; all the rooms, albeit small and interconnected, looked the same.

They eventually caught up to him, the distance between them dwindling by the second. Sam's long legs once again gave him an advantage and he launched himself at Malcolm. Sam tackled him to the floor, using his large frame to keep Malcolm down.

"No. No! Let me go! Let me go!" Malcolm looked fearful as he struggled under Sam. "Please. Just… please."

Dean was behind them, making sure Sam had the situation under control. "You got him?"

"Yeah." Sam punched Malcolm unconscious just as he tried to slip from under him. "Let's get a chair and tie him up. We still need to find Daddy dearest."

Dean disappeared into the rooms in search of a chair. He came back after finding said chair, along with a piece of rope. "I found these ropes in a wacky room. There were loads of creepy surgical tools hanging up. It looks like several are missing. Daddy dearest probably took some, so watch yourself." He tossed the rope to Sam.

Sam caught the ropes in reflex. "Yeah, okay." He pushed Malcolm, who was still unconscious, into the chair and tied him to it. Tugging the rope for good measure, Sam then stood up and turned to Dean. "I don't think Daddy dearest is even in the building anymore. Or the detective."

"Probably found an escape route. If there's one." Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I can go scout the other rooms."

Malcolm groaned; the sound of him awakening grabbed the attention of the brothers. He saw them look at him with intense stares and immediately became frightened. "Please don't hurt me! Please. I didn't want to do anything, please. It was my father."

Sam faced Malcolm. "You're gonna have to share some details if you don't want go get hurt."

"Yes, yes. Anything. Just don't hurt me." Malcolm ducked his head in shame.

Dean nudged Sam. "You watch him, I'll go find Daddy dearest."

Malcolm's head jolted up. "My father? Um. Uh." He looked to Sam to see if he could continue speaking. "There's a makeshift door my dad made in that room ahead on the right. There's stairs leading up to it. Um. It leads to outside. He's probably out there."

"Oh? Thanks, kid." Dean nodded to Sam in silent acknowledgment; his expression saying 'be careful' and walked to the room that Malcolm had indicated.

He found a hidden stairwell and climbed the stairs. He pushed the door, but found it wouldn't budge. Gathering up his strength, Dean tried again and managed to push it open with a small grunt. Branches swooped down in his face.

"Ugh." He pushed the hanging branches out of the way as he made his way into the clearing. Looking back, he saw the door was poking out of a hill surrounded by small trees. He pulled out a small light torch from his pocket and took stock of his surroundings. It was dark still. Bugs were noisily chirping and the winds were low.

Dean walked with caution and kept his senses on alert for any movement. He kept his weapon cocked and ready should he need it. And he would.

A shadow brushed past, shaking the leaves of small trees and bushes. Dean bolted into the same direction and followed the quick-moving shadow. It was moving so quickly it seemed to disappear and reappear in different areas, Dean couldn't keep track of it. "Shit." He stopped and looked around as the shadow dashed around him. Suddenly the shadow switched directions and headed straight towards Dean.

Dean aimed the weapon and fired. Missed. Fired again. The shadow slashed at Dean, catching his chest and shoulders before Dean fired again. "Fuck!" He stumbled back, hastily grabbing the wound on his chest with his free hand. The t-shirt was ripped where the wound was. Blood was seeping through the tears but the claw marks didn't cut too deep to be serious. He would live.

Dean looked around again, breathing through his nose deeply. He knew that this surgeon guy really wasn't human at this point. No human could move this fast. He lifted his gun again, and breathed steadily. He let his senses take control once more. Ears alert for any sound. Eyes trained on the trees for any movement. "Come on…"

No movement.

"Come _on_." He gritted his teeth. "I'm gonna kill you, pal."

 _There._ Shadows appeared and danced around Dean, faster than before. Dean fired multiple rounds, following it in a circle, doing his best to keep up with the creature's speed. It came towards Dean again, knocking his weapon out of his hand, splitting the wooden part into two pieces all the while causing Dean to stumble to the ground. Dean fought the creature and kept his arms up over his torso in defense. When the creature backed off, he quickly got to his feet and chased after the creature. Weapon or no weapon, Dean would take him on.

He ran through the trees, pushing wayward branches out of the way and jumping over broken tree trunks. He kept his eyes trained on the multiple shadows cast by the moon and fragmented by the trees, struggling to discern the one he was chasing after. He kept his flashlight trained in the trees, as he ran faster and faster, gathering speed (or was the thing slowing down?)

Dean tackled the shadow down. He fought to control the wriggling body, trying to pin it down. He was losing the fight. He grunted as the creature pushed him over into the ground and effectively pinned him with his arms down; shit, not what he wanted.

"Wait, it's _you_ ," a familiar voice gasped out.

Dean shone the flashlight at the person on top of him. "Nick?"

Nick's face was revealed, illuminated by Dean's torchlight. "What are you doing here?" Nick asked as he released Dean's arms.

"Chasing Daddy dearest."

Nick looked confused for a moment. "You mean Phil?"

"Malcolm's dad, yeah. Is his name really Phil? Man, it totally doesn't fit him." Dean grunted in pain and let his head hit the ground. "Can you get off? Think you're sitting on a wound or somethin'."

Nick hastily got off Dean, flustered, and apologized. "You're hurt?"

"Yeah, uh, _Phil_ got me I think." Dean sat up and his fingers gingerly touched the deepest wound on his chest that reached all the way to his ribs. "He ripped up a damn good shirt." Dean sighed.

"Let me see," Nick leaned forward before Dean could say anything and moved the strands of fabric. "Give me your torch." He took the flashlight and shone it on the area where the wound was. He squinted when he saw Dean's tattoo. To Nick, it had to look like a satanic symbol, even though _technically_ it wasn't. Avoiding the wound, which apparently didn't seem serious upon closer inspection, his fingers brushed the pentagram-shaped tattoo in curiosity. The flashlight allowed him to see the details of the tattoo and small freckles on Dean's chest. "What's this tattoo?"

"Oh. Uh," Dean stuttered, not really prepared to answer the question. "Well it's—"

The rustling of leaves drew their attention. In the time it took Dean to twist around and face their attacker, a shot rang out and the figure tearing out of the thick tree branches abruptly dropped to the floor. It was Phil that was on the ground, a bullet through his heart. Surprised, he turned back again and saw that Nick was crouching next to him, gun drawn and still smoking.

He blinked as Nick pulled his arm back and shoved his gun into the holster. "Good shot."

"Thanks," Nick said as he stood up, and helped Dean to his feet.

"You're a better shooter than I originally gave credit for."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should."

Suddenly Sam's voice cut through the air, calling Dean's name.

"Oh, crap. Just… uh… we gotta go." Dean wrung his fingers as he spoke then turned and ran back into the direction of the hill with the door, Nick following close behind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, here's chapter six! Apologies for being incredibly late. So many excuses, but... let's face it, they're terrible and I wish I could've finished this earlier. I am posting it just in time before I'm gone off the face of the planet for a week. Next chapter will be up soon, probably in like a week or so - just to make up for my lateness. So, enjoy! xoxo

Dean and Nick found Sam in a room, struggling to keep Malcolm contained.

"Dude, help! He's not exactly—" He grunted as Malcolm elbowed Sam in the face. "…innocent." He used his strength to keep Malcolm's arms down. "He broke through the ropes s-somehow."

Dean rushed to pick up the longest piece of broken rope that was still available from the pile. He turned in time to see Nick helping Sam contain Malcolm and holding him in place. Malcolm's right arm slipped free from Sam's grasp and Nick twisted Malcolm to face him and kneed him in the stomach. Malcolm sunk to his knees, groaning in pain.

While Malcolm was still down, Dean tied the rope around the kid's upper body with his arms constricted to his sides. He's was only 19, so in Dean's eyes he's still a kid that barely finished his war with puberty. Dean made sure Malcolm's arms were tight against his own sides and he wouldn't be able to escape for the second time.

Sam kept a hand on him while Nick dug a handcuff out of his jacket and clinked it on Malcolm's wrists for good measure. "Okay," he grabbed the younger man's arm and brought him to his feet then shoved him onto the chair. "Sit there and don't move," he commanded.

But the kid didn't. Malcolm looked wildly around the room before setting his eyes on Nick. His eyes widened before screwing tight and began struggling harder and rocking the chair which was threatening to tip over.

Nick took a few steps and struck the butt of his gun against Malcolm's temple, knocking him out.

There were a few tiny containers and salt peppered around the floor in the vicinity of the college kid. Dean kicked an empty container before asking, "You salted him? Anything?"

"Yeah I had some stuff. He didn't react to anything. Not salt, not even holy water," Sam replied.

"Uh, why would he?" Nick asked, confused.

Dean grimaced and turned to Nick. Apparently it was time for the awkward explanation; something he hoped he would not have to do. "Um, both him and his father aren't exactly _human_. You've seen the claw marks Daddy dearest left me with and obviously the kid here broke through his ropes. He probably used his claws to cut them loose. Here, you can see the marks." He pulled his shredded shirt over to show them his wound. "A human wouldn't be able to do this."

"Yeah, there's certain… things in the world," Sam gestured with his hand, trying to figure out how to explain this to the apparently dubious detective, that there's more to them than the eye can see.

Dean grew impatient and they didn't really have time for the whole 'The Truth is Out There' speech. "Basically there's a lot of creatures out there and we hunt them."

Nick stared at them for a moment, face unreadable. He slowly nodded as he glanced momentarily at the kid in the chair. "They are definitely _creatures_. But they're called wesen and—"

"Wait, wait." Dean gestured his hand out as if to stop all conversation. "What's a wesen?

Nick shifted uncomfortably. "You can't see them, but certain people are creatures, for the lack of better wording, that live among people. There are a range of creatures. Malcolm here is a geier. He has… vulture features one could say. Geiers are known to harvest human organs in order to sell them for medicinal uses in the wesen community. According to the Grimm lore, they, including the ones I've met so far, were malicious, fast and like to harvest organs while their victims are alive."

As Nick explained, Dean felt a surge of familiar emotion run through him. The sentiment wasn't new, but being told he wouldn't ever be able to tell for sure just made it that much worse. All his skills he's earned were nothing against these… creatures. He felt so disturbed at the idea of creatures that could blend in with humans and carry out their lives, blending in… no. No, that's not right.

"But um, it's not like all of them are bad or even all that dangerous. There's this family of eisbibers. Er, think of them as beavers. This guy, Bud, he has a wife and three kids. He works as a handyman around town. He often gives me baskets of homemade goods, especially ones his wife made…" He trailed off, smiling at the memory. "He's a good guy."

"You're saying that there are good… wesen and bad wesen?" Sam asked.

"That's putting it… simply. Like saying there are good people and bad people. But yeah. Basically. They all have their own personality. Most times you can figure out who they are depending on their traits. My job is to keep the unruly ones in check and many times, they cross my path on my cases, both good and bad."

"So you're a… hunter?" Dean asked after being quiet during Nick's explanation.

"…Hunter?" Nick asked and Dean suddenly remembered that the word didn't hold the same meaning to other people as it did to them. "I'm a cop. And a Grimm, that's what the Wesen call me." At this point, Sam's eyes seemed to light up like they did when his walking-encyclopedia-of-weirdness of a brain put the pieces of a puzzle together. "All it really means if that I'm able to see their true natures whereas others can't. It's come… in handy with quite a few cases."

"I've heard of you before." Dean shot a questioning look as his taller brother continued, "Well, not you you, but Grimms. I came across that name more than once while we've been hunting. But technically they were supposed to be fairytale. Seriously, apparently a fairytale in the folklores."

Nick shrugged. "Here I am." He untied Malcolm from the chair and hoisted him to his feet, holding the unconscious kid up.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"He's going to be taken to the station and probably questioned until further notice."

" _What?_ " Dean exclaimed incredulously. "He's – whatever he is! He—"

"Dean."

Dean's mouth snapped shut when Nick said his name.

"Yes, I know who really are. You are Dean and Sam Winchester." He adjusted his hold on Malcolm who was still passed out. "I may have been drunk that night but give me credit here, I got quite a bit of memory." Sam glanced at Dean in confusion but Dean shrugged him off.

"I heard your name over the phone that night, Dean. I thought you guys were familiar and that name only helped. So, I looked into you both, saw your rap sheet, your background… my curiosity got the best of me. I remember you both on the TV. I'm surprised it took me this long to realize why I thought you were familiar. You were quite popular with the government years ago. Always appearing and vanishing like ghosts." The brothers said nothing, so Nick continued. "I always used to wonder how you got away…" he trailed off frowning but then shook his head. "I don't think I want to know. And for that matter: tell me why I shouldn't take you in as well. Do you have any idea how long your rap sheet is?"

"We have a hunch." Dean grinned, crossing his arms pretty proud. "We're just too good for the government to catch us. Maybe you guys are out of touch."

Sam elbowed him prompting an "ow" from Dean. Sam looked back at Nick. "Look, we're not serial killers like the media made us out to be. We're trained hunters. We hunt creatures who hurt or put into danger. You wonder how we get away? Because we help the cops or FBI with their cases or get away with their lives somewhat intact."

Nick eyed them both down, not entirely convinced. But Malcolm looked like he was starting to awake again, he needed to get him going. "Go."

It still irked Dean that the kid was getting off easy. But… he supposed it was only right. Phil, who was the actual person who killed all those people, was dead now. Malcolm, as annoying and troublesome as he was a prick, showed reluctance in participating in his father's legacy. If Nick took him in, he would help the detective to explain the events tonight.

Dean nodded slowly, watching the detective and the so-called creature in his grasp cautiously.

"Thanks for helping out here."

"You going to be okay?" Sam questioned, his body half ready to leave, but wanted to make sure of the situation with Nick.

"Yeah, definitely. I got this. Hopefully we'd meet again under better circumstances." Nick smiled and nodded his head as good-bye. Sam awkwardly waved a hand and Dean just held his gaze. Nick averted his eyes, ears tingeing slightly red, and a slow, cocky smirk spread across Dean's face.

The brothers turned away to leave and return to the car.

The walk back to the car was a quiet one, save for the sounds of the forest. Neither Sam nor Dean spoke as they loaded their weapons and flashlights in the trunk of the Impala. Dean stripped off his torn shirt. As Sam took stock of their weapons and necessities, Dean surveyed his injury on his chest. Didn't look too bad; luckily he had stepped back just as Phil took a swipe at him so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He used a rag he found in the back seat. He grunted quietly as he wiped the dried blood away.

Sam looked over, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just a scratch." Dean winced as he accidentally rubbed his shoulder where there were more claw marks. "Or two. S'nothing I can't handle."

"Here." Sam tossed his brother a first aid kit taken from the glove compartment.

Dean mumbled thanks as he took out a small bandage tape and ripped small pieces to tape over the wider parts of the biggest wound on his chest.

Sam leaned against the side of the car watching his brother fix himself up. "I still can't believe that Grimms are real." Dean hummed, prompting Sam to continue, "Grimms are like the fairytale in fairytales. Like a story people inside folklores would tell. A story within a story…?" Sam shook his head before he confused himself any further. "And the wesen—"

"What's your point?" Dean said angrily.

"Dean, think about it; having a Grimm on our side. And one that actually operates within the law… I think he'd count as a good ally to have under our belt."

"Friends with a _detective_? Are you kidding me, Sam?"

"Think of the things he could teach us. What if he showed us how to work around the law department? Wouldn't it be good to get tips and information from someone who is honest and works inside the department? What if we encounter wesen in our other cases?"

"We wouldn't be able to tell if they're wesen. They mostly pass off as fucking _humans_."

"Not if we learn their patterns and the species. Dude, remember we've gone on the road for a lot less and some of our perps were actually human anyway."

Dean held a heated glare at his brother who glared back, holding his stance. He grabbed a cotton t-shirt out of his duffle bag from the backseat and pulled it on. He couldn't stay angry; he knew his brother was right. He sighed. "Maybe."

Sam leaned back and grinning smugly. He knew Dean would eventually see why it's smart to have the benefits of such an alliance.

After taking time to shove all the remaining tree branches off the car, they both clambered into the Impala. Dean ignited the car and Sam looked over at the dashboard to check the time; it was only 2 AM. "I'm itching for a drink. Wanna hit a bar?"

"You read my mind."

****

**…**

As soon as they entered the first bar they found, music and the smell of sweat hit their senses. Once at the bar bench, they ordered drinks. Several drinks. Because of that, it didn't take as much prodding as it used to get Sam to mingle with the crowd looking to get laid.

Dean sipped his beer. Amazingly, getting laid tonight was not exactly on his mind right now. The detective's words rang in his mind. Creatures that want to live with humans, not just among them. Not just looking for prey, but wanting a sense of normality that being a human can uphold. Do these… wesen have genetics that allow them to be both human and creature? Well, Dean supposed, if angels exist, anything could.

Except unicorns.

There needed to be a way to single them out. A tell. A mark or something. And just how many of the people they'd come across… the hunters they knew weren't really human at all? What if the people he met on his travels, people he saved - what if some of them had been wesen?

"Hey there, sweetie," A classy looking chick leaned into Dean's personal space and interrupted his musings. She crossed her arms under her breasts, making her intentions clear. "Buy you a drink?"

Dean smiled tiredly at the woman, "Thanks but no. I think my evening has been interesting enough."

The woman pouted, but nodded and backed off.

Dean sighed and finished his beer. He looked around for Sam, wondering where he went. Sam was chatting with a cute-looking brunette with glasses. They were speaking and laughing together. Looks like he'd have a good chance.

Dean waved down the bartender and asked for bourbon neat. As a shot glass was slid into his hands not a moment later, Dean contemplated. Just drink and find somewhere to pass out while Sam gets laid? Drinking sounds so perfect. He tilted back his head as he downed the rum. The burning liqor pushed down the uneasy feeling in the back of his mind. He stared straight ahead, willing the alcohol to take over his senses. His vision was still focused. Nope, not drunk yet. Obviously, this would take much more than one shot. This is going to be a long night.

A body slid in the seat next to Dean, shoulders brushing his. The presence felt familiar and it relaxed Dean. "I thought I might find you here, it being the bar closest to the woods."

Dean smirked, "That you did, detective. What about paperwork?"

Nick ordered a beer and leaned on his elbow with a hand on his cheek, his body canted towards Dean, his whole posture open and inviting, the other hand slung over his lap. "There was some." His empty hand caught the beer bottle when the bartender slid it to him. "I already completed the most important one, which is the initial report. But now I need this well-deserved beer. The rest can wait." He tilted his beer bottled in his hand, examining its logo.

A comfortable silence befell between them as they continued drinking.

"Plus," Nick started slowly, prompting Dean to tear his gaze from his empty glass to the detective. "I wanted to see you."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Buddy—"

Nick flushed immediately once he realized what he said. "Wait. I mean no- not that way, um." Dean laughed softly at the detective's self-depreciating grimace before he gathered his wits again. "I wanted to talk about... you know. My other job."

"Shoot." Dean ordered another round of rum; this was going to be a long night.

"I just wanted to make sure you're aware that not all of them are… murderous. They're all so diverse, just like humans."

"So you say."

"Yes. In fact, I have a very close friend that is a blutbad. Though he'd probably look at me like I'm crazy if I said that, but… it's come to be true." When Dean pulled a face, he explained, "Oh, a blutbad is… he's sort of like a werewolf, I guess. He likes to call himself reformed."

"Werewolf, really?" Dean said as he pushed the shot glass away from his hands. "My brother and I may have encountered more than a few werewolves… most of them aren't exactly friendly. My brother would tell you that you should have your friend help these…people out."

"And not you?"

"My first instinct is to hunt things that are unnatural."

"A blutbad who does Pilates at an ungodly hour and has an unhealthy obsession with Christmas is pretty unnatural, I would guess."

Dean eyebrows shot up to his hairline, he laughed causing Nick to laugh along with him. "Seriously?"

Nick nodded, still smiling. "Yeah."

Dean saw Sam walking up to them, brunette in tow. "Hey."

"Hey," Dean replied.

Sam smiled sheepishly. "I hate to do this, but can I take the Impala and have the motel for the night? Or at least until, maybe 6?" His eyes were silently begging Dean to say yes, of course you can.

Dean shook his head, "Yeah sure, whatever." Sam visibly lit up.

Nick nudged Dean's shoulder, "You can stay at my place for the night if you want."

"That works, thanks you're a lifesaver." Sam grinned and took the girl's hand before walking out of the bar. Dean apparently had no say in the lodging arrangements.

He sighed. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Nick checked his wristwatch and sighed. "How about we head back to my place now?"

"Tempting but the bourbon is calling me."

"No, fantastic beer and the Godfather both are calling you."

"Mmm. Getting there, c'mon sweeten the pot."

"And a bed, of course. You know that."

"Oh man, yeah." Dean sighed at the thought of a soft bed. A bed that's not in a shitty motel where hundreds of thousands of people have slept on, had sex, spilled drinks and other liquids Dean did not want to think about. Sure, the sheets change but the image is still there. But Dean wasn't finicky. Really, a nice bed was too good to pass up. "Okay, you got me."

Nick covered the payment for their drinks and got up, grabbed his jacket and followed Nick outside into the parking lot to a rickety SUV. They both clambered inside the car and after starting the ignition, Nick drove out of the parking lot and onto the road. The car's internal machinery rattled as it gained speed and hit over potholes.

A comfortable silence wrapped around both of them. The radio volume was low; a newscaster was talking about what the weather will be like for the next few days, occasionally cracking corny jokes causing Nick's mouth to quirk in amusement every now and then. When Nick switched the radio to a classic rock station, he was humming along with the tune. Listening with content, Dean watched Portland whisk by outside his window. This just might be the most relaxed Dean had been in a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE. /sobbing I'm so sorry it took forever but I had this porn written ages ago but tHE HARD PART WAS FIGURING OUT HOW TO GET TO THE PORN wow that was horrible and this is all i could do and i'm crying because it's so cliche-y but it's so cute it physICALLY HURTS ME WOW (basically screw grammar at this point because i have dean/nick feels). 
> 
> SO about the epilogue, idk if I wanna write an epilogue but I guess I could if there's enough people pushing for it (and ideas, pls send them my way if you have any, SERIOUSLY). Okay, ENJOY!

Nick's house was actually pretty nice looking. In fact, it looked like a dream home.

Dean followed Nick into the house, subtly taking an interested glance around the room. Strangely, it was half-empty. It looked like many furniture pieces and decorations were taken from their spot. As Nick tottered around the living room, attempting to tidy it up by gathering pieces of take out and thrown shirts, Dean shrugged off his jacket and slung it over a couch's arm.

“Sorry for the mess, really. Not quite used to cleaning up on my own.”

“S’okay, I’m the same. That’s why I have my brother, he’s the housewife,” Dean said while sliding into the couch.

Nick snorted. “Hang on a sec, I’ll go get the beers.”

Dean watched Nick go into the kitchen. He settled into the couch, leaned back and tilted his head upwards, sighing with content. He eyed the room again out of passing boredom. The house looked normal. Sure, a little messy but clean enough to be decent and Dean really was not that finicky. There was nothing out of place that screams supernatural. There were no windows shattering, no screeching voices, no blood. It was all calm. He startled awake at the sound of Nick’s voice.

“There’s a lot left over in the fridge if you want more.”

He looked over at Nick who was approaching him, juggling two beer bottles and a large bowl of popcorn. Dean reached out to take the bowl of popcorn. “Careful. And thanks.”

Nick passed over a beer and set his own bottle on the table then walked over to the television set. He turned on the TV before grabbing a DVD case and popped it in. “The Godfather is waiting for us,” he said in an ominous voice causing Dean to laugh. Nick grinned and slid into the couch and got comfortable.

Soon Godfather was already halfway in, with Michael Corleone conversing with another man (Clemenza, was it?) and the beer bottles in the fridge were dwindling low as they littered the coffee table in front of them. Throughout the movie, they occasionally brought up remarks regarding the film and the actors in it. Dean slowly became aware that Nick was leaning more and more into Dean’s side as the movie progressed.

The warm air that was emanating from Nick comforted Dean, it was nice, it was welcoming and Dean found himself leaning into Nick, opening his legs until their thighs and knees touched.

Nick glanced down at their joined legs then looked back at the television screen.  Dean didn’t dare to look at Nick either. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, but maybe, he did and chose to be ignorant. Actually, he didn’t know what to think. (Stop. Turn your brain off, Dean. Thinking doesn’t work for you.)

Dean’s trail of thought cut off when he felt a hesitant hand on his knee. It was light, barely there and testing if it— _this_ —was okay or not. If Dean paid closer attention, he could feel a small tremor.

Dean finally looked down and placed his hand on top of Nick’s. The tremors stopped and the hand flipped over, lacing their fingers together. Dean didn’t dare to look up, not with his heart pounding so loudly in his ears and he could barely breathe. The fingers were thick and the nails were cut short.

Nick slowly leaned onto Dean’s shoulder, and lightly kissed near Dean’s sideburns. “Is this okay?” he asked quietly.  
  
Dean slowly reached his hand up and murmured, “C’mere.” Nick leaned forward and Dean met him in the middle. He grabbed Nick's wrist and pulled him into his laps, until he was straddling him. “I think it’s more than okay.”  
  
He moved his lips to Nick's and when they met, Nick deepened the kiss, subduing Dean. It wasn't perfect – lips were sliding off each other as they wrestled to meet their lips together, but the effort was there as they haphazardly slid their mouths over each other.  
  
Dean groaned, keeping one hand on Nick's hip, and lifted his other hand, sliding it up over Nick's thigh over the jeans, trailing over his jutted hip, up over the robust, flat planes of his chest and settled back down behind his neck.  
  
Nick is a guy, for fuck’s sake. Cock and all hard muscles. Indeed. Dean wrestled away his discomfort about the fact he was attracted to this person – a guy – he met only days ago. He did once say that he tries everything at least once. And hey, if it works, it works. Dean still dug chicks, still liked the idea of soft boobs.

But he was undeniably attracted to this Portland detective. The fact that he too hunted supernatural creatures only helped along the fact. Nick simply swept him off his feet with, literally, a smile. Dean inwardly cringed at that sounding too chick-flick-y, but it was true. Sam better not laugh if he finds out… not that he _ever_ would. Dean figured he would go into this at another time, not right now, not when it feels so wonderful.  
  
Dean tilted their heads and asserted more control, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding into the other's mouth, their teeth clicking and small amounts of saliva dripping out the corner of their mouths. Nick relented; he let himself take the backseat for a while just to enjoy this.  
  
Nick's hands moved from Dean's shoulders and held Dean’s head, his fingers threaded in his short hair. He pulled a fistful of it when Dean bit his bottom lip, and in return Dean gyrated his hips, meeting Nick's. The fabrics of their jeans were starting to cause too much friction for either of them to handle and yet, they wanted more. Their crotches rubbed against either other as they grinded for more friction.  
  
The heat surrounding them was turning up a notch and sweat was beginning to form on the nape of their necks and foreheads. Nick grinded down as Dean grinded upwards. They broke off for air and they panted as they continued to grind each other through their jeans, their cocks hardening beneath the fabrics. "Oh," Nick gasped and arched his back as he felt a shudder go through his body, a warm sensation filling him.  
  
Dean's fingers once again found themselves at Nick's hips, slipping underneath the hem of his shirt, touching the taut pale skin and stroking it softly and almost lovingly. He stopped grinding and looked up at Nick, who was panting heavily, aroused, and staring at him with questioning bright eyes and thoroughly bruised lips.  
  
"Nick, " Dean breathed out, pausing internally worried about the clichéd-ness. But damn it all, he found that he no longer cared. "I know this is kinda late, but, but are you sure?"  
  
Nick's eyebrows furrowed and he surged his head forward to plant a kiss on Dean's lips. He pulled back slightly, hovering over the lips, with his breath hitting Dean’s face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."  
  
And that was all Dean needed to hear.  
  
He pulled Nick's head down and kissed him again, his tongue licking over the bruised lips apologetically. His roaming fingers at the hem of Nick's shirt disappeared underneath and worked upwards to slip Nick's shirt off over his head. They continued to kiss, only pausing when Nick lifted his arms up to help, and he then kissed Dean again once his shirt was off.  
  
Nick kissed down over Dean's jawline, his lips burning from the small stubbles, down onto his neck, pausing to suck a patch of skin. Nick started to resume grinding down against Dean, with arms lazily thrown over Dean's shoulders while rotating his hips. Dean tilted his head back to allow Nick more access, his eyes fluttering from the tingling sensation. He gritted his teeth when Nick bit hard and relished when he lapped the skin with the flat side of his tongue.  
  
Dean pushed Nick back slightly to pull his own t-shirt off, careful of the wound he bandaged earlier. He grabbed Nick’s hips and returned to grinding his pelvis up against Nick’s. Their cocks hardened more and more as they continued to grind and kiss.  
  
Soon Dean couldn’t handle the pressure anymore and needed _release_.  But they very well can’t do it on a chair. Well… actually, that is an idea… but for now, “Bed?”

 “Upstairs,” Nick panted out.

They stumbled up the stairs, clumsily bumping into the walls and into each other, kissing while their hands were unable to keep off of each other. Nick pulled Dean into his room, not caring that the door was left open. They kissed again, this time slowly, while their bodies began rocking into each other.

Dean’s hands went down to Nick’s ass and nudged him upwards. When Nick got the idea, Dean wrapped his arms around the other’s waist, picked him up with only a small struggle and pulled Nick’s legs around his own waist. Nick responded by wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck for support. Dean walked them over to the bed and leaned down, letting Nick lay across the mattress.  
  
Dean looked down at Nick, seeing the expanse of his skin that had dark hair littering across his chest. It was weird. Not a bad weird, but just _weird_. Few days ago, he would never imagine getting laid with a guy. The idea was wrong. It was not disgusting, just that he didn't think of it as a sexually pleasing idea; it simply didn’t appeal to him.

But now, looking down at Nick whose bare chest was rising and falling, lips parted open and his cock creating a large bulge in his jeans… Dean’s breath hitched. God, he was gorgeous.  
  
Nick reached up and pulled Dean down by his neck and kissed him again, slowly – planting a small kiss, followed by a long, sensual one then three small pecks – as if he was planting a signature. He looked up at Dean, his blue-grey eyes meeting Dean’s green.  
  
Dean smiled and kissed him chastely. "Keep goin’?" He asked.  
  
Nick's cheeks turned into an interesting shade of reddish pink and the blush reached his ears, now that he realized that everything was becoming very real. He nodded and whispered, voice unsteady from his erratic breathing, "K-keep going."  
  
It was obvious neither of them had a clue as to what they were doing since both of them only ever bedded women and never had a "gay experience". Though some things are pretty obvious, and Dean _technically_ knew the gist of it. (Sometimes watching anime had its downfall; you can’t really depend on Japanese sites and think you clicked on totally straight anime porn video. Dean may have _accidentally_ watched gay porn and didn’t immediately exit out of it. Or two. Maybe three.)

Dean decided to trust his gut and go with the flow - and Nick's voice. He moved down over Nick's body, his knees kneeling outside on both sides of Nick’s hips. One hand was trailing through Nick's chest hair, over his abdomen until his fingers reached the top of the jeans.  
  
As if a lightning went through Nick, he shuddered at the contact and let out a soft suppressed groan. "Hurry up Dean, will you?"

Dean complied, undoing the button of his jeans.  He pushed down Nick's jeans over his hips and tossed them to the side. He rubbed Nick's hardened cock through his boxer briefs, bringing him closer to the edge. He leaned over Nick, watching his face contort in pleasure, planting a kiss on his shoulders or his jaw every now and then. Dean stopped just before Nick could go over the edge and pulled down his remaining garment, and tossed it to the side.  
  
Nick felt awkward being the only fully naked person in bed and reached out to undo Dean's pants, quickly shoving down both the jeans and the boxer briefs at the same time over his hips. Dean helped pulled them both off and now they both were skin to skin.  
  
Everything seemed to still, as they looked at each other, fingers gracing the others’ skin. It was so surreal. Dean’s head is still wrapping around the fact that he’s doing this – _this_ – with a guy. But he knew that he wasn’t going to regret this one in the morning, unlike a few other encounters with certain women and close calls. Really not something he wanted to get into or remember.

Dean took the initiation and leaned down, kissing Nick once again. Nick suddenly surged forward, startling Dean. While he awkwardly detangled himself from the clumsy mess of limbs, Nick deepened the kiss, pushing Dean down on the mattress. Dean felt extremely uncomfortable, so unsure of everything because really, he’s a total ladies man and knows how to deal with things when it comes to women. But a guy, that makes everything different. The discomfort went away as Nick kissed down his neck, his chest down towards Dean’s throbbing member.  
  
Dean jolted back against the headboard of the bed, gasping, as Nick’s warm wet mouth tentatively wrapped around his dick, as if he was unsure what to do. But then, as if something clicked, Nick took Dean’s shaft as far was it would go into his mouth in one fell swoop, without choking, which really, wasn’t that far. But it’s fine, totally fine. Dean’s breath stuttered and his eyes fluttered closed as Nick’s head began to bob back and forth on his cock causing him to open his legs further to let Nick in.

Dean’s toes curled into the sheets and his fingers fisted in Nick’s hair as Nick pulled his head back until his mouth was just around the tip, he gave the shaft a few experimental licks along the sides before engulfing it again. Nick held the base of Dean’s member with his hand, stroking it softly with his fingertips.  
  
He hips jerked when Nick swallowed his cock and sucked hard, continually bobbing his head. “S-shit, Nick,” Dean stuttered out, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. Best fucking blowjob _ever_. Screw professional blowjobs; innocent and dirty ones were the best. Occasionally Nick slipped up due to inexperience and Dean’s cock slipped out, but he took it back into his mouth again like a champ. One hand experimentally massaging Dean's sacks and the other holding Dean’s hip down as he worked to bring Dean over the edge. Dean gasped and moaned loudly, his body humming as he came, shooting his load into Nick’s mouth.

Nick hastily pulled back in surprise, kneeling on his haunches, then looked at Dean as if he was contemplating the taste of Dean’s cum. Dean stared at him in awe as Nick swallowed it and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.  
  
“Damn, that was hot.” Dean smirked.  
  
Nick grinned, cupping Dean’s softened member that was slowly hardening again under his touch. Dean’s recovery time is impeccable, which he privately prides in. Nick leaned towards the other. “Glad you liked it.”  
  
Dean grabbed the back of Nick’s neck to kiss him again. Nick held Dean’s face as the other said, “Maybe I should keep you.”  
  
“Just because of that? I feel special,” Nick grinned against Dean’s lips. Dean hummed in agreement and kissed him roughly, and pushed him down until he was on his back and massaged his cock, teasing him until he was moaning and writhing and after a couple tugs, was uncontrollably harder than he was before. Dean leaned back and nudged Nick’s knees further apart with his hand. After some gentle efforts, Nick complied, slowly and nervously letting his legs apart to let Dean settle between his legs, his cock bobbing with the movements.  
  
Dean knew he needed lube, which he didn't currently have and he was pretty sure that Nick didn’t have any kind of lotion either, so he figured he had to improvise. And he was the master of improvisation, wasn't he? He leant down to Nick, stroking his chest then reached down, dragging his hand across Nick's throbbing dick then down over the curve of his ass. He stopped and sucked his fingers, coating them with as much saliva he could muster then slipped a finger into Nick's puckered hole, feeling Nick's muscles clamp around it.  
  
Nick shifted uncomfortably at the foreign intrusion up his ass. Dean curled his fingers, exploring the new territory then slipped in a second finger, scissoring the walled flesh. Nick was wincing and gritting his teeth when Dean slipped in a third finger. He pulled them in and out and continued until Nick gasped and writhed in pleasure, his back arching. Dean was almost surprised to see this reaction, not fully expecting to see him react in this way. He pushed his fingers again and again, wanting to see Nick's contorted face and taut muscles tightening under his expanse of skin.  
  
Dean needed to be inside Nick _now_. To feel Nick's warm, pulsating cavern enclosed around his dick. He leaned over the edge of the bed, hastily grabbing a condom wrapper out of his jean pocket that was forgotten days ago (Dean always was a man of opportunity). He ripped it open using his teeth and rolled it on his hard dick. He leant forward, pulling at Nick’s legs and easing his painful throbbing dick into Nick with some effort. He gasped as he sunk in, until he was fully sheathed. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight, man." He clenched his teeth as Nick's muscles clamped around his shaft. "You ready?"  
  
Nick, despite being in utter pain, nodded and whispered a pained "yeah". A part of him wants to tear out Dean's prick because he was so, so damn uncomfortable but he felt an overwhelming sense that this was only the beginning and he wanted more. More was all could think as his hole was filled up by Dean's pulsating cock. This was really happening. It seemed so surreal.  
  
Dean began thrusting, fingers gripped around Nick's hips as he moved sensually, tantalizingly slow at first then building speed. Nick body arched again, as Dean continued thrusting into his body, grunting in time with the thrusts. Dean's breathing became erratic and harsh. He changed his angle every time he thrusted in to get inside deeper. All the sudden, Nick's moan ripped through the room, his body writhing against Dean's, and his legs spread wide open. Dean grinned amidst his thrusting, watching as Nick's body moved with his and his soft, deep and breathy moaning filling the room and the bed creaked and moved under them as they rutted hard against each other. Nick's legs found themselves locked around Dean's hips, bringing Dean closer, deeper.  
  
Nick's sporadic hands clasped and unclasped the bed sheets then moved onto Dean's shoulders as Dean leaned in, pounding into him. He was gasping, sweat was dripping over the their bodies and Dean ached for more friction, more heat, more, more. His world seems so small, when Nick is laid out all bare and writhing before him. It was only Nick and himself.  
  
Dean eyed Nick’s bobbing dick and reached out to grab it and started to jerk him off, fingers wrapped tightly on the moving skin, as he continued to thrust into him. Nick cried out strangled moans as he was brought closer and closer, his hips rolling and his body arching off the bed. Nick's strangled moans sharply changed pitch and moaned loud as he came, yelling Dean's name, while orgasm rolled through his body, strands of seed erupting, spilling onto his own chest and Dean's hand.

At the same time, Dean felt Nick's muscles clamped down tight around Dean's cock, and felt the familiar sensation at the pit of his abdomen, coiling and wriggling until he climaxed, filling Nick with his hot seed, and hoarsely saying Nick’s name as he rode out the orgasm.  
  
Dean's dick softened inside Nick, both men panting and sweating. Eventually, he eased out of Nick. He leant down and kissed Nick, whose eyes were closed, coming down from the high of his orgasm and still panting heavily. Nick responded, exhausted as he was, lazily kissing back. His head rested on the pillow, too tired to even move his limbs.  
  
Dean lay on his side next to Nick; his chest heaves slowing down as he caught his breath. He propped his elbow to hold up his head up as he strokes Nick's chest tenderly, fingers playing with the chest hairs. Silence wrapped around them, the smell of sex was heavy in the air.  
  
"This is it, isn't it?" Nick's question broke the silence.  
  
Dean saw Nick looking up at him. He looked at the window, through the crack between the pulled curtains; it was still dark. "Yeah, unfortunately." He looked back at Nick. "We plan to leave at first light."  
  
"I see." Nick's eyes found the ceiling; the brown stains from leaky pipes suddenly became very interesting. Maybe he should fix that someday, take out his tools and everything.  
  
"But maybe, maybe I can talk to my brother, and I don't know, maybe convince him so we can stay in town for a few more days."  
  
"You'd do that?" Nick looked at him, badly hiding his happiness at Dean's preposition.  
  
"Mhmm, and stay until something else comes up," Dean smiled, and threw his arm under Nick's neck across the shoulders, pulling him close, until they were practically cuddling. Not that Dean would ever admit this, but it’s been a while; he really enjoyed this.  
  
Nick smiled back and turned to his side, facing Dean and getting as close as possible. "That would be nice. Maybe, maybe we could..." He trailed off uncharacteristically shy. "Maybe I could show you around Portland, and, perhaps we could catch a movie?"

Normally Dean only did one night stands since he was on the road so often, and he never had a chance to really got to know someone past the sex - not that he usually wanted to. For Nick, he felt like he needed to spend more time with him because there was this strange pull he felt when around Nick since the first day he met him as that uptight detective on the crime scene. Nick is different. He’s a man. He’s capable. He knows the dangers of reality. He can shoot a gun like a regular Dirty Harry. He’s a _detective_ , which should’ve been a red light. And yet, he is here, lying in Dean’s arms, looking at him like no one else had in a long time.

Nick’s suggestion was such a corny first-date move, but Dean kinda found it endearing.  
  
"I'd like that," Dean finally said. "I usually just hit and run, since I'm always on the road. But you, you're different.” He paused. "I never got laid with a guy before. I’m pretty sure you did something to me."  
  
"My pheromones? Or my attractive charisma?" Nick joked, leaning even closer than before so that their noses were touching while tangling his legs with Dean’s and wrapped an arm over Dean’s waist.  
  
"Well, that too I suppose," Dean smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "But seriously though, stop. You're making me feel like I'm in a friggin’ chick flick movie."  
  
"Hmm, I think it's a damn good one," Nick replied.  
  
“Damn straight it is, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliched ending, okay I know, but I'M SQUEALING AT MY OWN WORKS BECAUSE IT'S ALL IN MY HEAD AND IT'S SO CUTE AND EVERYTHING IS DEAN/NICK AND NOTHING HURTS aksf;dk;shlkfgjgl. Okay, I'm gonna go now and die of embarassment for my first real try writing (really cutesy vanilla) porn alsjflkdfjhjl.


End file.
